Elyandra's training under Dalia's relentless supervision became a daily ordeal, where her fragility was exposed and her strength slowly forged. Mornings invariably began before the sun broke the horizon, with strenuous physical exercises that tested the limits of their endurance. Long, unforgiving runs through the rugged terrain of the Valemortis estate, sequences of hand-to-hand combat moves that left her exhausted and sore, and agility exercises that required precision and quick reflexes. Dalia observed everything with a cold and analytical eye, correcting every posture, every movement, without ever giving in to any demonstration of pity.
After physical exhaustion, magical training began. Dalia, despite her affinity for shadows, guided Elyandra in the first steps of controlling divine magic with a surprisingly effective didactics. She explained the principles of mana shaping, the need for clear visualization, and unwavering intent, drawing parallels with how she herself controlled shadows.
"Your inner light, Lady Elyandra, must be like a mighty river under your command. Direct your flow, refine your shape, focus your power.
The first stage was self-healing. Dalia inflicted minor cuts and bruises on Elyandra, forcing her to channel her divine magic to regenerate tissues, stanch blood, and relieve pain.
the sharp pain throbbing with each pulse... It was different from the exhausting muscle pain of physical training. It was a cold, cutting pain, inflicted with a purpose that went beyond simple strengthening. "She really did it," Elyandra thought, as she watched the owner impassively in front of her. "She cut me off. On purpose."
The memory of the dagger's metallic shine, the speed of the strike... Everything revolved in his mind. "There was no hesitation. No warning." Dalia's cold logic, her words about natural order and self-preservation, echoed in her head, but the visceral experience of pain was something else. "Is this how she teaches? On the basis of pure pain? Of the claw?"
A wave of revolt tried to rise, the indignation of a noblewoman accustomed to protection and care. "This woman is crazy!" But then, the image of her healing hand, the surprise contained in Dalia's face... Something hesitant began to sprout in the midst of his indignation. "Did it work? Somehow... It worked."
At first, it was a slow and painful process, the golden mana flowing hesitantly, the healing occurring in an irregular manner. But with constant practice and Dalia's relentless pressure, Elyandra learned to feel the flow of her mana, to shape it more precisely, to speed up the healing process. The pallor gave way to a healthy flush after each session, the pain subsided more rapidly, and the confidence in her ability to heal gradually grew.
Then they focused on centralized healing. Dalia would make non-lethal direct injuries to herself, and Elyandra would learn to direct her divine magic to heal her wounds, fractures, or any other bruises. This exercise required even greater control, the ability to focus healing energy on an external target while maintaining the stability and intensity of the magical flow. Elyandra learned to feel the vital energy of the other, to identify the points of imbalance and to direct her healing light to restore harmony, Dalia did this frequently, even cutting herself in some places so that Elyandra would focus on some places.
"Does she do it again?" Elyandra thought, watching the blood flow with a mixture of horror and a rising acid mood. "This woman has one less screw, she just can. What is the logic of 'I'm going to cut myself so you can learn how to sew'?"
As her golden sister hesitated to begin the healing work on the owner, Elyandra's mind wandered. "If there were a 'Geneva Convention for Magical Training,' Dalia would be locked up in a dark dungeon, fed on bread and water. ' Crime against pedagogical humanity', would be the main accusation. And rightly so!"
She frowned, imagining Dalia standing before an intergalactic court. "'Miss Dalia, does the accused plead guilty or not guilty of repeatedly inflicting injury on her pupil under the pretense of 'practical learning'?' The obvious answer would be a dry growl and a look that would make judges from a thousand galaxies ask for transfer."
The image of Dalia as an interdimensional criminal made her let out an almost imperceptible sigh. "Seriously, if we had human rights around here, the first emergency call would be to 'Magos Without Borders'. ' Hello, we have a sadistic tutor using self-harm as a teaching tool. Level of insanity: extreme.'"
The most challenging stage was the offensive channeling of divine magic. Dalia explained that the same energy capable of healing had the potential to hurt, depending on the intention and the way it was shaped. She instructed Elyandra to visualize her divine light not as a soft balm, but as concentrated rays of pure energy, capable of piercing, burning, and repelling. The first attempts were clumsy, the divine light dissipating into the air without causing any significant effect. But with Dalia's persistence and precise guidance, Elyandra began to channel her magic into beams of golden energy, initially weak but gradually gaining intensity and focus.
Training was not limited to magic and physique. Dalia also devoted time to training in self-defense and unarmed combat. Utilizing her own experience as a military specialist, she taught Elyandra efficient and lethal fighting techniques, exploiting the vulnerable points of the human body, teaching her how to use agility and intelligence to overcome stronger opponents. It was brutal and straightforward training, with no room for flourishes or hesitations.
Dalia's fists were like steel-clad hammers, each blow a painful and unforgettable lesson. "My body still hurts just remembering it," Elyandra thought, massaging her shoulder instinctively, as if the bruise from last week was still there, pulsating. "She didn't take it easy. No 'oh, be careful, you're a delicate noblewoman'. It was punching, blocking, dodging, again and again, until I fell exhausted."
The image of herself staggering, her breath cut off... It was a frequent memory. "And then? ' Heal yourself, Lady Elyandra. You have the magic for that.' Oh, of course, as if it were the most natural thing in the world! 'I just gave you an epic beating, now use your godlike powers to mend the broken bones, please.'"
She remembered the first time Dalia knocked her down with a well-aimed blow to the solar plexus. The pain had paralyzed her, the air running out of her lungs. "I stood there, on the cold floor, thinking I was going to die. And Dalia? He just stared at me, waiting. 'If you can't get up, Lady Elyandra, how do you intend to survive outside?' Out there where, exactly? In an interdimensional gladiatorial arena?"
The irony of the situation did not escape him. Being beaten by her own owner, under the pretext of self-defense, had a touch of black humor. "Sometimes I swear she's just taking out the accumulated disappointment. ' Five more punches for not making the bed right yesterday.'"
And self-healing... At first, it was a slow and exhausting process, each golden mana strand a conscious effort to repair the purple bruises and painful twists. "I would spend hours in my room after training, glowing like a sick firefly, trying to pick up my pieces. Siris would have been horrified." The memory of the maid's kindness contrasted sharply with Dalia's methodical brutality.
"But," a thread of acknowledgment ran through his thoughts, "I'm stronger. Much stronger." The pains were still vivid, but the fragility of before had begun to give way to stubborn resistance. "I can take more blows. I heal faster. Perhaps... Perhaps there is a cruel logic in all this."
Still, the image of Dalia, impassive as he punched her to exhaustion, haunted her. "One day I'll still ask her if she felt any satisfaction in this. But probably the answer would be a cold look and an 'Efficiency, Lady Elyandra. Just efficiency.'" Elyandra sighed. "Brutal and painful efficiency. But... efficiency."
Elyandra's mind was constantly challenged. Dalia subjected her to logic puzzles, strategy games, and intense debates, forcing her to think clearly and quickly under pressure. She taught her to observe details, to analyze situations coldly, and to make calculated decisions. Slowly, under Dalia's relentless tutelage, Elyandra's impulsiveness and emotionality began to give way to a more focused and strategic mindset. Pain, exhaustion, and frustration were constant companions, but Elyandra's determination, fueled by the memory of Siris and the growing conviction of her own strength, kept her from succumbing. The fragile girl was, day after day, being sculpted into something tougher, more capable, a true Valemortis.
After an exhausting day, where her muscles begged for rest and her skin still resonated with Dalia's precise impacts, Elyandra shuffled through the hallways towards her room. His countenance, though tired, carried the faint golden luminescence of his divine magic at work, pulsing in soft winks as his body worked to repair the bruises and bruises inflicted during training. Each step was slow and cautious, a silent testimony to the intensity of that day.
Dalia watched the girl walk away, her small, resolute figure bathed in a flashing light, until she disappeared from view. A deep, familiar voice broke the silence of the hallway, charged with undeniable authority.
"What do you think you're doing to my daughter, Dalia?"
The tutor didn't turn around. She would recognize that voice in any tone, anywhere. It was Lord Valemortis, his presence always charged with a silent weight.
"It is the most intense training I have ever formulated for any pupil, Lord Valemortis," said Dalia, her voice firm and direct, without any hesitation. "Even more so considering Lady Elyandra's age.
Lord Valemortis's tone carried a serious concern, tempered by his noble position. "I didn't bring her here so that you could beat her day after day, Dalia. I confess that I don't like to see my daughter in this state.
"It was Lady Elyandra who requested a stricter training regimen, Lord Valemortis," Dahlia countered, keeping her posture upright and respectful. And she showed an astonishing determination to endure the demands. I have no intention of depriving the little noblewoman of what she herself sought.
Lord Valemortis remained silent for a moment, his expression tense. He was visibly bothered, but a twinkle in his eye indicated that he had observed, albeit discreetly and with reservations about the methods, his daughter's resilience. He knew Elyandra's stubbornness and determination.
"Let's put that aside for now," he said at last, abruptly changing the subject. "Dalia, have you identified the origin of those who attacked us?" Has there been any progress in your investigations?
Dalia's countenance closed, her dark eyes fixed on a distant spot as memories of the investigation into the masked men assailed her. The silence that followed seemed to extend for long minutes, charged with the frustration of dead ends and lingering mysteries.
"There has been no significant progress, Lord Valemortis," Dahlia finally replied, her voice deep and devoid of optimism. "All the masked attackers were under a complex curse. After death, their bodies were pulverized into ashes in a matter of minutes, making any forensic analysis or subsequent identification impossible. The ones we managed to capture... All of them ended their own lives before we could discover their identities or their masterminds.
She paused briefly, her mind going over the few bits of information they had.
"Currently, we don't have concrete clues. However, the circumstances of the attack, the fact that we were ambushed shortly after we left the Sorell... everything points to the Marquis. There are nuances to consider, certainly, but the probability is high.
Lord Valemortis nodded slowly, his expression grim.
"I came to the same conclusion, Dalia. But, as you well know, without irrefutable evidence, we cannot move against Marquis Sorell. It would be an act of war, with unpredictable consequences.
A heavy silence hung between the two, the frustration of a hidden and powerful enemy. Dalia finally broke the silence with military firmness.
"I will redouble my efforts, Lord Valemortis. I'll find more clues. I will unravel this network, whatever the cost.
Lord Valemortis stared at her for a moment, a dark glint in his eyes.
"I hope so, Dalia." Time won't run to our advantage from here. With a nod, he turned and headed to his quarters, leaving Dalia alone in the silent hallway, her determination etched into every line of her face.
Weeks passed away at a relentless pace, each day marked by Elyandra's rigorous training. The proximity of the exams for the Royal Academy hung in the air like a palpable expectation. In a surprisingly short space of time, Elyandra had reached a level of preparedness that, while it required every fiber of her being, was undeniable.
On that quiet evening, Dalia sat in silent meditation, her back erect, her breathing calm and controlled. Beside her, Elyandra imitated her, her small figure now displaying a more rigid posture and an even more refined noble bearing. His shoulders were straight, his gaze focused on a distant point, his presence emanating an unusual composure for a child about to turn nine. It was almost impossible to glimpse in the girl with a serious face and a determined look at the same fragile and lost child from months ago. His movements were more decisive, his speeches more thoughtful, his aura carrying a precocious maturity, forged in the fire of loss and discipline. Time, relentless in its passage, had sculpted in Elyandra an unexpected resilience, transforming pain into a silent engine of growth.
In the midst of the silence of meditation, where rhythmic breathing was the only melody, Dalia broke the peace with a low and controlled voice.
"Your birthday is approaching, Lady Elyandra. It coincides with the week of his exams for the Royal Academy.
Elyandra kept her eyes closed for a moment before answering, her voice surprisingly calm and thoughtful.
"Yes, Dalia. I remember. Seems... distant, somehow.
"It's an important milestone," Dalia pointed out, without changing her meditative posture.
"Siris always said he would make me a special cake," Elyandra said, the memory tinging her voice with a brief shadow of melancholy. "With many candles.
There was a brief silence before Dalia continued.
"The tests will require focus and control, Lady Elyandra. Don't allow memories to distract you from your goal.
"I know," Elyandra replied, her voice regaining its ground. "But that doesn't mean I should forget. It just means that I must learn to carry these memories with me, without them paralyzing me.
"A mature perspective," Dalia remarked, a slight tinge of approval in her tone. "Use that same maturity in your tests. They will test not only your magic and physical abilities, but also your mental resilience and your ability to make decisions under pressure.
"I'm ready," Elyandra said, her voice firm and determined, the golden light of her mana pulsing gently around her, even at rest. "I'll do my best."
The night stretched over the Valemortis estate, enveloping the landscape in a blanket of shadows and silence. The crescent moon cast silver rays through the windows of Elyandra's room, illuminating the small figure already lying down, but with its eyes still fixed on the dark ceiling. The day of training had been exhausting, every muscle in his body crying out for rest, but his mind remained awake, buzzing with anticipation and quiet determination. Dalia's words about the evidence echoed in her thoughts, mixed with Siris's memories. A new strength resided within her, forged in pain and discipline, and Elyandra was resolute to show everyone, especially herself, what she was capable of. The night was a brief interlude before the coming battle, and in her childlike but now hardened heart, little Valemortis prepared for the beginning of her future.